


Bedtime Story

by sqbr



Series: Morrigan and Leliana [5]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F, Fairy Tales, Fanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-15
Updated: 2011-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-15 16:56:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sqbr/pseuds/sqbr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, deep in the perilous Kocari Wilds, there lived a witch called Flemeth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedtime Story

The bard settled herself in her chair and began her tale.

"Once upon a time, deep in the perilous Kocari Wilds, there lived a witch called Flemeth. Flemeth had once been a beautiful young mage married to great King, but she was betrayed, and to save herself and seek revenge she allowed herself to be possessed by a demon. But demons are dangerous creatures, and it did not take long for Flemeth to lose her humanity and become a violent creature only interested in death and power.

For reasons only known to the demon, Flemeth decided to create a home for herself in the Wilds, and for five hundred years she preyed on the Chasind who live there, stealing their men to beget many daughter witches. Flemeth and her daughters prowled the dark places of the forest doing who knows what terrible things."

" _I_ know what terrible things we did," said Morrigan.

Leliana glared at her partner, who smiled unrepentantly from her position on the floor by the fire.

"Hush," said Leliana. "This is _my_ version of the story. And the bard demands no interruptions from the audience." She gestured seriously as though she were speaking to some noble crowd in a great hall rather than just to her family in their living room.

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "It may be your _version_ of the story, but it is _about_ me. Still, let us hear it, I suppose. I am curious to hear how you shall make certain parts suitable for the more _impressionable_ parts of our audience." She nodded her head towards the child sitting next to her, listening to Leliana's story, eyes wide.

"I doubt it shall be any worse than the bloodcurdling tales _you_ tell her," said Leliana. "At least mine has a happy ending."

"Stop talking and tell the story," said the child, Claire, impatiently. She added a belated "…please," when she saw Leliana's chiding expression.

"I will do my best," said Leliana. "Now where was I? Well. The last of Flemeth's daughters was a beautiful young girl called Morrigan."

"How is it relevant that I am beautiful?" asked Morrigan. Leliana raised an eyebrow and Morrigan sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine, tell the story as you see fit. But keep in mind, daughter, that Leliana is a sentimental fool concerned far too much with superficial appearances."

"If that is so," said Leliana, "Then it is lucky for you that you are so beautiful, no? And also relevant to the story." She smiled triumphantly and Morrigan hmmed with stifled amusement.

"Flemeth was not a very kind mother, but she was the only family Morrigan had ever known, and the girl loved her with all her heart. Morrigan tried her best to follow the lessons she was taught, to seek power and laugh at petty human affections, but deep inside she was not happy with this life, and Morrigan was very lonely.

One day Morrigan came across a group of men wandering the Wilds. She watched them in secret in the form of a dog as they stumbled through the forest, and laughed to herself that it was only a matter of time before they blundered into one too many wolf packs or darkspawn and found themselves dead.

And yet Morrigan found herself drawn to one of the men. He seemed less incompetent than the others, like Morrigan he had the confident ease of one who has grown up in the forest, and he had a formidable beauty she found intriguing."

"Was that my father?" asked the child. "What was he like?"

"If you wait and listen," said Leliana. "Perhaps I will tell you." She paused dramatically, much to Claire's annoyance, then smiled and returned to her tale.

"The man's name was Curon Mahariel, and he was an elf from the Brecilian Forest. He was short but strong and lithe, with flowing blonde hair and pale skin tattooed with the symbols of his ancient gods. He and the other men belonged to the order of soldiers called the Grey Wardens, charged with the protection of Thedas from the darkspawn. The darkspawn are deadly monsters sent by the Maker as punishment for the hubris of man, and the Wilds were full of them. But the Brecilian Forest itself is old and mysterious and full of many dangers, and unlike his companions Curon felt no fear as he walked the Wilds.

Morrigan quickly returned to her mother and told her of the Grey Wardens walking their Wilds. To her surprise Flemeth told Morrigan to assist them, and together they saved Curon and another of his companions, Alistair, when the rest of their order were overcome by the darkspawn during a terrible battle. Though she had always told Morrigan that she should stick to the confines of the forest, Flemeth now told her to accompany Curon and Alistair on their quest to defeat the darkspawn, and before she knew it she was leaving the Wilds for the last time. She did not know it at the time, but Morrigan would never see Flemeth again."

"Were you sad?" said Claire to Morrigan. "I would be very sad if I never saw you again."

"Sad?" she replied, disconcerted. "I…a little, I suppose. But I was much older than you are, such separations become less difficult when one is grown. And I was not so fond of Flemeth as is considered usual for children, she was not one to encourage affection."

The child frowned, unconvinced, and gave Morrigan a hug. A little embarrassed, Morrigan said, "Enough about me, we have not yet met the _true_ protagonist of our story. What of the lovely bard Leliana?"

"Oh, how true!" said Leliana, "And to think I had nearly forgotten her. Well, let me think, how shall we describe Leliana? Hmm…" She put her finger to her lips and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Leliana was a bard from Orlais who was living in the Chantry of a town called Lothering, very near to the Kocari Wilds. She was also very beautiful, with long flowing green hair and giant glowing purple eyes, and she was renowned across Thedas for her amazing ability at juggling cats."

Claire giggled. "That's not true!"

"You don't think so?" asked Leliana, holding up a lock of her coppery hair, as if surprised to notice that it wasn't green. "Well, perhaps it is not _entirely_ true. But this is only a story after all, and sometimes I have to change the details a little to keep things interesting.

Anyway, like all bards Leliana was an accomplished fighter. But she had vowed to renounce violence and dedicate her life to the Maker, and she might be a Chantry sister still, had she not had a vision that the Maker wished her to serve some higher purpose. When she saw Morrigan and the Grey Wardens being threatened by evil soldiers she decided that _this_ was her purpose, that the Maker wished her to save them and join their quest to defeat the Blight.

The battle was short but heated. When the soldiers were defeated Leliana introduced herself to Curon, and he invited her to join him and his companions.

Leliana was immediately drawn to the beauty of the witch Morrigan, so wild and unrestrained compared to the timid and broken-spirited mages she had met before. But Morrigan did not believe in the Maker, seeing Leliana's faith as delusion, and the two women spent much of their time arguing."

"Whereas now we _never_ argue," said Morrigan dryly.

"Exactly!" said Leliana.

"They had many exciting adventures on the road, and made many new friends. There was the dauntless Qunari whose fierce exterior hid a kind heart, and the dwarven warrior whose incredible strength in battle was only weakened by his incessant thirst for ale. But in my opinion the bravest warrior was the dog, who was so intelligent you could almost believe he was talking to you, and so lovable that even the cold hearted Morrigan would give in and treat him to biscuits when she thought noone was looking."

"You never let _me_ have biscuits," said Claire to Morrigan.

"Indeed? And here I thought I had given you some only this morning. Well! If I _never_ let you have biscuits I suppose I will _never_ let you have any of the rest of the batch. Tis a pity to waste them, though. Perhaps we should give them to the neighbour's children."

Claire frowned at Morrigan, her eyes glowing with righteous indignation. The fire behind them began to spit and quiver, and Morrigan's previously light expression suddenly became serious. Leliana's hands twitched with the memory of the burns they had received during a previous argument.

"Now, little one," said Morrigan in a calm voice, "It is important to share." She looked quickly to Leliana, who nodded and started to reach for Morrigan's staff.

Heedless of her parents concern, Claire said doggedly "FINE I will SHARE the biscuits. But SOME of them are MINE. …please."

"Very well," said Morrigan. Her tone was light, but Leliana could hear the tension behind it.

Claire remained calm and comfortably human as Leliana told of the glories of Orzamarr and of the vicious werewolves of the forest. But she became visibly uncomfortable when Leliana described the abominations of the Circle Tower, even though she was glossing over the more horrible details, and Leliana decided to skip describing the events at Redcliffe altogether.

As Leliana told her tale, Morrigan quietly cast a subtle magic over their daughter, reinforcing the wards she had created within the boundaries of Claire's soul. This was draining on both of them, and Claire's head began to nod sleepily.

"Is my story so very boring?" asked Leliana.

"No!" said Claire, "I'm just…" and then her face contorted into a yawn. "I'm just a little sleepy," she finished.

"Well, perhaps I will finish the story tomorrow. I think it is time for you to go to bed." Too tired to protest, Claire rubbed her eyes and let herself be led away.

When she returned Leliana found Morrigan staring thoughtfully into the fire. "I thought you said your wards would hold," said Leliana in tense whisper. "She has been so…I had almost thought the demon was gone."

"The _spirit_ will never be _gone_ ," said Morrigan. "It can only be contained. And the wards are holding. Mostly. They just need to be reinforced from time to time."

Leliana sighed, and thought of the child in the next room, who was at the same time a little girl, she and Morrigan's beloved daughter, but also the vessel of an ancient evil. Leliana wondered, as she had many times before, if she had been right to stay and help Morrigan look after the child, if it would have been better to refuse to be part of such blasphemy. But for good or ill, Claire was her family now, and Leliana would see this through until the end.

Claire lay quietly in the dim light of her room and thought over Leliana's tale. She imagined Morrigan and Leliana on their travels, righting wrongs and setting fire to things, and wished that she could have a chance to travel outside the boundaries of Val Royeux and have adventures herself. Part of her wished she could met her father too, and wondered where he was now. Her mothers were full of anecdotes about their adventures saving the world from the Blight, but always got very vague about how things had ended. But that was ok, they weren't the only ones who could tell her about it. As she drifted towards sleep a soft and ancient voice whispered to Claire from the darkest depths of her mind. "A long time ago," it sang, "in the farthest and most enchanted provinces of the Fade, there lived seven siblings…"


End file.
